Harry Potter and the Path of Divergence
by chrisk86
Summary: For as long as Harry Potter could remember, he knew he was different. He dreamed of a world beyond Privet Drive, but never imagined the world he would step in to shortly before his eleventh birthday.
1. Chapter 1

"Boy, get off the damned roof and come help your aunt with breakfast!"

Harry Potter sighed and reluctantly turned his gaze away from the sunrise and crawled through the open window and into his bedroom. He didn't know why, but he always liked to see the sun rise in the morning and look at the stars at night. He guessed it was probably because he was a bit of a dreamer. It wasn't that he thought he deserved anything better than the life he currently lived, Harry just thought that there was more out there for him than a row of identical houses with neatly manicured lawns.

People would think he was crazy if he ever admitted it out loud, but he swore he'd once seen a dragon flying high in the sky. That was the type of thing Harry longed for—things that couldn't be readily explained. In truth, he was a part of the things that couldn't be explained. For one thing, he could have a full conversation with a snake, but that was the least of his problems. He constantly did things that simply shouldn't be possible.

"Boy, I won't ask you again!"

"I'm coming Uncle Vernon", Harry called and quickly put on a pair of trousers and t-shirt. As he silently sprinted down the stairs, Harry tried to tame his messy hair, but the act had more to do with telling his relatives the truth if they asked him if he'd tried. He'd long since accepted the fact that his hair was a lost cause and wouldn't have even bothered with it if it weren't for his relative's insistence on normalness.

"Good morning", Harry said brightly as he entered the kitchen. His uncle grunted behind the newspaper and that more or less meant 'it had been a good morning until Harry came along'. The ten-year-old boy paid it no mind and began helping Aunt Petunia with breakfast. Despite it being somewhat girly, Harry found cooking to be quite fascinating in the respect that, when separated, the ingredients were nothing too special, but when combined just the right way they could make something truly delicious, like cake. Harry loved cake, but he also loved quite a lot of things.

When he was seven, his schoolteacher had recommended to Aunt Petunia that Harry needed to go see a doctor because she was certain he had some form of ADD. When they'd arrived home, Harry had gotten out the encyclopedia and quickly decided he did not, in fact, have any type of attention disorder. He was truly fascinated by everything, whether it was big or small, and generally could not be disturbed when he was in the middle of an enlightening discovery. His focus, however, was second to none and he rarely forgot anything he read or learned. In his humble opinion, he thought his teacher ought to have been teaching him something new and challenging rather than repeating what they had learned the year before just for the benefit of the slow kids.

"Mail's here!" Harry said suddenly upon hearing the click of the mail slot. He was already halfway out of his chair before Uncle Vernon was able to look up and already in the entryway before his uncle could think of a reply.

"Don't know why you're so excited about the mail, boy", he shouted. "You won't be going anywhere but Stonewall High".

"We'll see about that", Harry muttered darkly as he hurried towards the door. It was now a long shot, but Harry still held out hope that he would be accepted into a secondary school in the fall instead of being forced to go to public school. There wasn't anything wrong with public school, but Harry's quest to get out of Little Whinging would start much sooner if accepted into a secondary school. He'd also need a scholarship since the Dursleys had made it abundantly clear that they would not pay for any of his needs except the absolute essentials. Harry had relentlessly argued that his education was most essential, but in the Dursleys minds, the essentials were secondhand clothes bought from the thrift store, a meager portion of food and a small, sparsely decorated bedroom he was graciously allowed to sleep in.

Harry picked up three letters, discovered the first was a bill, and paid it no mind. The second was a letter from Vernon's sister, Marge, and he was mightily tempted to wad it up then throw it in the bin, but he knew questions would be asked and he'd easily be implicated. Regretfully, Harry put the second letter behind the first. The third was a letter addressed to him, but it took a moment to register. When he finally realized what he held in hand, his heart leapt mightily because he was very sure that this letter was the solution he had been waiting for. Despite his thoughts, Harry still couldn't believe it. He'd never even received a letter before in his life and if his assumption was true then this was certainly one he would remember for the rest of his life.

Walking into the kitchen, Harry passed Uncle Vernon and set the other two letters down before taking a seat at the table again.

"Dad!" shouted Dudley suddenly. "Harry's got a letter!" The boy in question was just about to rip it open, but decided to look up. Not a moment later did Vernon try to snatch it out of Harry's hand, but he was far too quick for the fat man. What he didn't expect, however, was to be smacked across the shoulder by Dudley's smelting stick as he tried to get out of his chair. The force of the blow sent him to the ground and luckily, he landed on his elbow instead of his head, but since his elbow had not been tucked in to his ribs, his elbow slammed into the side of his stomach, causing Harry to suddenly gasp for breath, his side howling in pain. Unintentionally, he lost his grip on the letter.

"Hah!" Vernon victoriously exclaimed after bending down and snatching the letter from the floor. Out of breath, Harry found he could hardly move. His eyes were trained solely on the letter and he did not miss Vernon's face suddenly pale upon glancing at it.

"P-Petunia", he gasped. Dudley tried to grab the letter from his father, but Vernon quickly held it up out of his reach before handing it to Petunia. Her reaction was much the same; her face paled upon reading the first few words and she looked as though she might faint.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness! Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten Harry or Dudley was in the room. Harry still did not fully have his breath back, but now more than ever he wanted to see what that letter said. He couldn't understand their reactions to what should have been a common acceptance letter and forced himself to his feet.

"That's my letter", he said, his voice unsteady. "Give it to me".

"Get out, both of you", croaked Vernon, stuffing the letter back into its envelope.

"No!" Harry protested as he felt something familiar stir deep within him and suddenly he could breathe again. "That's my letter! I want it now!" In reply, Vernon and Petunia glanced at each other, their eyes wide in fright. "NOW!" Harry was surprised he'd shouted at his relatives, having done so only once before, but he'd do anything to have that letter. He felt that familiar something begging to be released once again and he momentarily panicked, knowing he did not have full control of his emotions, but instead of suppressing the feeling like he'd learned to, Harry latched on to it with all his might and released it all at once.

A strong gale of wind came out of nowhere. It displaced half the things in the kitchen and Harry's ears immediately began ringing from the sounds of everything being thrown this way and that, but Harry paid it no mind. His focus was solely on the letter. It streaked out of Petunia's startled hands and into Harry's own, and before they knew what had occurred, the ten-year-old boy was already sprinting out the front door.

"BOY GET BACK HERE!"

Even if a car had hit him, Harry was sure he wouldn't have stopped. He ran as if his life depended on it and didn't even stop when his eyes settled on the tall oak tree in the park that he loved to climb. Instead of stopping in front of it, Harry sprinted up the tree as far as he was able and used his remaining momentum to grab a hold of the strong branch. He pulled himself up and quickly settled in before ripping the letter open. He read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

For a frightening moment, Harry felt tears fill his eyes, becoming quite sure it was an elaborate prank played on him by the Dursleys. Then, as if something was telling him, he suddenly remembered what had just occurred in the kitchen. His mind then contemplated his ability to do things that shouldn't be possible and suddenly everything made sense. He was a wizard! Somehow, he was sure of it.

Harry wasn't even sure if he jumped or climbed down from the tree. Either way, an instant later he was sprinting back towards Privet Drive, an endless amount of questions suddenly filling his mind. When he skidded to a halt in front of the front door, however, every single question fled from a sudden realization and Harry entered the house angrier than he had ever been in his life.

"YOU KNEW!" he shouted and slammed the door as hard as he could. The full-length mirror and several candles fell to the floor and shattered upon impact.

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon shouted and quickly entered the hallway. "You won't be going and that is final!"

"I will too!" Harry argued very sure of himself. He fearlessly stared up at Uncle Vernon despite the fact that the fat man easily outweighed him four times over. When he was six years old, Harry had learned that the fat man was all bark and no bite, and had used that knowledge to bribe his relatives into giving him his own bedroom as well as more food and secondhand clothes.

"And who'll pay for you to learn this nonsense, boy?" Vernon asked with a malicious grin. "We certainly won't. You can take that to the bank!"

Harry briefly panicked, but recovered quickly and said, "I don't care. I'll find a way to pay for my schooling on my own!"

"No", Aunt Petunia intervened. "We swore when we took you in we'd put a stop to all this nonsense! You'll be going to Stonewall High and you'll be grateful for it".

"I won't", Harry refused to believe otherwise and then his eyes suddenly widened, upon remembering what had angered him in the first place. "You knew I was a wizard!"

Petunia's face twisted in rage at the sound of the last word. She shrieked, "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that school-and came home every holiday with tales of such utter nonsense! I was the only one who ever saw her for what she was - a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

"My Mum", Harry whispered in surprise, "she was a witch?"

"Yes and then she met that Potter boy at that dratted school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as - as - abnormal - and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

"BLOWN UP?!" Harry shouted and it was followed by the sound of more glass candles shattering to pieces. "You said…you said...my parents died in a car crash!"

Petunia laughed hysterically with tears streaking down her cheeks and nastily said, "They were murdered!"

Harry tried to respond, but suddenly he couldn't breathe. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but nothing would come out. Then, his eyes began to fill with tears and he did the only thing he could think of. He fled. Harry sprinted up the stairs, slammed the door to his bedroom, and then dove on his bed. Not a moment later, he sobbed into his pillow and it was some time later before the tears finally waned. He slowly sat up and wiped his face several times with the sheet. He wanted to go back downstairs and ask Aunt Petunia the questions he hadn't been able to, but for the first time in his life he honestly did not want to know the answers. The thought of his parents being murdered was something he couldn't grasp nor was he really willing to. A car crash had been one thing, but murder. He shivered in fear at the thought.

Another wave of tears threatened to fall just at the thought of his parent's murder, but thankfully he was interrupted at that exact moment. A soft tapping on the window caused Harry to glance to the left. A brown owl was sitting on the window ledge, staring straight at him. Remembering something, Harry checked the Hogwarts letter and sure enough, it mentioned that they awaited his owl by no later than his birthday.

"How odd", Harry whispered and slowly opened the window, all the while a bit wary of the owl and its ability to deliver a letter. He jumped out of the way when the owl flew into the room. The ten year old followed its path until it landed on the dresser. It stared at him expectantly and almost looked rather bored. "Can you really deliver a letter?" In reply, the owl simply stared at Harry as if he was an idiot then hooted, and that mostly settled it for Harry, but he was still very much wary of it. "Okay then, just let me write it".

The owl hooted in reply and Harry quickly set to work. He was excited again and he literally had to force himself not to ask any more questions than necessary. The letter read:

_Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,_

_I would like to attend Hogwarts, but I think you ought to know I don't have any money and my relatives refuse to pay a pound towards my education. Are there any scholarships? If so, I'd appreciate it if you sent me an application. If there are not then I must decline your invitation. Either way, I await your response._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

He stared at the letter, wishing he could ask at least two pages worth of questions, but the answers wouldn't matter if he couldn't go to Hogwarts so he only asked what was necessary and prayed for the best. Staring at the owl, Harry wondered how in the world was it supposed to deliver a letter. There was a piece of string tied to one of its claws and after a moment of thought Harry decided it was the most logical way for a letter to be carried by an owl.

With shaky hands, Harry slowly undid the piece of string. When the owl did not make a move to peck his hands any fear he had suddenly vanished. After a bit of frustration, Harry finally secured the letter to the owl. It shook its leg, determined the letter was, in fact, secure and took to the skies again. The ten year old boy watched it go, all the while wondering how long would it take for a response, if there even was one. To pass the time, Harry busied himself by cleaning his room. Normally, he wouldn't have done such a thing, preferring his room to be a bit messy rather than spotlessly clean, but he didn't want to go downstairs only to confront the Dursleys again.

He briefly thought of reading a book, but somehow they all seemed so boring. Reading about magic, he decided, would be much more enjoyable. He figured there must be books since they had a school and as he piled up the dirty clothes on the floor, he wondered what they would teach. He figured they would teach him how to control his magic although he somewhat already had a good grasp of it. At age seven, he'd begun to understand that every time he lost control of his emotions something odd would happen and two years later he'd been able to control his emotion enough to control those familiar stirrings deep within him, until today of course.

When Harry's room was almost absurdly spotless, he heard the sound of the doorbell. He froze, and his emerald green eyes widened in surprise. During the seconds that passed, Harry listened to the sounds of the quiet house as he stared out the window, once again checking to see if the owl was on its way back. The doorbell rang a second time and someone knocked on the door rather firmly. Harry's eyes widened even further, knowing full well that Aunt Petunia would never make someone wait outside that long unless she wasn't there.

Hesitantly, Harry poked his head out of the doorway to his bedroom then he slowly tiptoed to the top landing of the stairs. There were no sounds in the house at all and he suddenly sprinted down them, not caring how much noise he made. Skidding to a halt, Harry abruptly opened the door and stared up at a tall and lanky elderly man with a snow-white beard that halted at his waist. Even though he had never seen a wizard before in his life, Harry was certain this old man was one. If for no other reason, Harry decided only magic could keep someone alive that looked as old as this man did.

"Hello…Harry Potter", he said with a sincere smile and very kind blue eyes. Harry did not know why, but he immediately knew this was a man who could be trusted and he found himself hesitantly returning the smile. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Albus Dumbledore, the…"

"The Headmaster of Hogwarts?" Harry asked quickly, resisting the urge to smile at the thought that he had been correct in thinking the old man was a wizard.

"Indeed", the old man replied, his soul-piercing blue eyes sparkling in amusement. "May I come in?"

"Yes sir", Harry replied and quickly opened the door wider. The old man entered the house and without being directed, took a left and entered the sitting room. He sat on Uncle Vernon's comfy chair while Harry sat next to him on the edge of the sofa, wondering where he ought to start.

"I didn't know someone would come that fast, sir", Harry casually mentioned. "Is Hogwarts nearby?"

"It's actually in northern Scotland", he answered, looking at Harry square in the eyes. "The delivery owls we use are obviously much faster than a regular owl".

"Oh", Harry said, suddenly remembering his lack of money. "Sir, about the scholarship…"

"Never mind that, Harry", he said and quickly dug in his pocket. He took out a tiny, gold key and handed it to the ten-year-old boy. "This belongs to you".

Harry inspected it, finding the key to be quite intricate and it looked almost brand new. He asked, "What does it go to, sir?"

"That key will open your trust vault in Gringotts, which is a magical bank in London", he answered. "Until you become of age, you will receive a five hundred galleon yearly stipend on your birthday, which will automatically be deposited into your trust vault. Your tuition, you should know, was paid for in full shortly after your birth".

"Oh, I see", Harry said, briefly looking up at the ceiling of the room and thanking his parent's foresight profusely. As overtly as possible, he wiped away the lone tear of relief streaming down his cheek. "How…um…how do you know all this, sir…about the allowance and the vault, I mean. You're just the Headmaster of Hogwarts, aren't you?"

"I am, among many other titles", he answered honestly and now that he mentioned it, Harry did recall seeing a bunch of titles after the Headmaster's name. "I knew your parents quite well, both when they were in Hogwarts and out. When they drew up their will a little more than ten years ago, they asked if I would be the executor. That means…"

"I know what it means", Harry interrupted. "You carried it out".

"Precisely", Dumbledore answered with a nod.

"That means", Harry said, clenching his fists as his voice becoming unsteady in anger, "you left me here".

"I do not deny that, Harry, but allow me to explain my reasoning", replied Dumbledore, giving Harry a bit of stern look. "I did not wish to place you here, but under the circumstances it was the safest place for you".

"Safe?" Harry asked almost hysterically. "They hate me!"

"The Dursleys would have never taken you in had they truly hated you, Harry", the Headmaster replied calmly. "No, they have never loved you as their own, but you could be in a far worse situation".

"How so?" Harry asked skeptically, his voice rising in anger. "Surely, my parents had friends or my dad had some distant family".

"The Dursleys are the only family you have left", Dumbledore replied and then sighed warily. "As for your parent's friends, to this day there isn't one of them who are able to care for you". Harry opened his mouth to reply to that, but Dumbledore raised his hand and continued, "The last I heard of your mother's best friend, Mary Macdonald, was that she fled the country roughly a month before your parents were murdered. Your father had three friends he was very close to in school. Sirius Black, who I might add is your godfather, killed one of the three friends after betraying your parent's location to a dark wizard and is currently serving multiple life sentences in a magical prison called Azkaban. The other friend, Remus Lupin, could not care for you even if he was able. Moreover, the Longbottoms, who were close family friends, were attacked shortly after your parents were. Tell me, Harry, where should I have placed you if not here?"

"There must have been someone who would have taken me in", Harry said, but he was starting to see this was not an argument he was going to win.

"Oh, there were plenty of people who would have given life and limb in order to adopt you", Dumbledore revealed, "but they did not truly want you. What they wanted was a piece of your fame".

"Fame?" Harry asked incredulously. "I'm not famous, sir".

"No, in this world you are not, which is another reason why I placed you here, but we'll get back to that in a minute", replied Dumbledore. "In the Magical World you became one of the most famous wizards overnight. Didn't you ever wonder where you got that scar on your forehead?"

"My aunt and uncle said…" Harry stopped upon realizing that he couldn't have gotten the scar from the car crash since it had not happened. Not willing to admit how much he did not know, Harry took a bit of a wild guess. "They said I got it on the night my parents died".

"While that is certainly true, I do not believe you know the full story of how they died, do you?"

"I…I know they were murdered and that's all I want to know", pleaded Harry as tears came to his eyes.

"No, if I were in your shoes, I do not think I would want to know exactly how my parents were murdered either, but the moment you enter the Magical World people will ask you questions about that night and of your parents", he explained softly. "It is far better if you learn what happened from me than from a stranger on the street or one of your future classmates who only knows the rumors and secondhand gossip".

"Okay", Harry agreed, his voice discernibly small.

"The Magical World had been at war for almost ten years", began Dumbledore after closing his eyes for a long moment. "A dark wizard by the name of Tom Riddle led the uprising, but the history books never refer to him by his given name. To be honest, there are very few that know his origins. He called himself Lord Voldemort, however to this day most of the population still refers to him as You-Know-Who simply because they are so frightened of him that they can't even say his name. There were good reasons to be frightened of him, Harry. It did not matter if you were a man, woman or even a young child, Voldemort would kill just because he was able. Many witches and wizards joined his cause although their reasons were entirely different. Some joined simply because they wanted a piece of the power he was gaining. Others were sympathetic towards his beliefs while there were some who joined simply because they were so frightened of what he would do to their families if it ever came to that. The times were the darkest I have ever seen in my one hundred years and I have seen a total of three dark wizards rise, but none were as terrible as Voldemort. In fact, many historians agree that he was the darkest wizard of all-time".

"How was he stopped?" Harry asked unable to help himself.

"You'll know in just a few minutes", Dumbledore answered, "but there is still a bit more background information you need in order to fully understand the ramifications". He paused and thought for a minute then continued, "As soon as Voldemort began his reign of terror, I naturally fought him, but I was not alone in the fight. I founded a secret organization called the Order of the Phoenix. Our ultimate goal, of course, was to see the downfall of Voldemort and all of his followers, who were called Death Eaters. Most of the members were well placed in our society and quite powerful in their own right. Many on our side, I am sad to say, lost their lives to the cause, but they knew what was at stake. They fought anyway because they wanted their children to grow up in a better world than they had grown up in.

"I recruited your mum and dad right after they graduated Hogwarts. They were the Head Boy and Girl and were the top students in their year in multiple subjects. Even before they graduated, I knew I was going to recruit them. In the spring of their seventh year, they confronted Voldemort for the first time and both immediately rebuked his offer of joining the Death Eaters. You must understand, Harry, that when a person declined Voldemort they almost immediately wound up dead. Surviving that duel was a miracle in itself, but it also shows just how powerful they were together.

"A few years passed and during that time your parents left Hogwarts, married and had you. At one point, it became apparent that Voldemort was after them and they went into hiding, using numerous safe houses to throw Voldemort off their trail, but even then, he was never far behind them. It eventually became obvious that someone very close to your parents was a traitor and I was at a loss as to what to do. Despite my suspicions, I could not sacrifice all I believe in and interrogate someone without undeniable proof. I did, however, voice my reservations to a very old friend of mine and we also discussed your parent's situation. He was reminded of an ancient spell that had long since been forgotten. It's called the Fidelius Charm and, in essence, it is an immensely complex spell involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find - unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it.

"It was the perfect solution to an otherwise impossible situation. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to divulge the secret, Voldemort could have stood mere inches from your parent's home and would have not known they were even there. Naturally, given my suspicions of a traitor in our midst, I offered to be their Secret-Keeper several times, but your father insisted on using Sirius Black, saying Black would rather die than give up their location. In the end, there was nothing I could do and a week later Lord Voldemort showed up outside Godric's Hollow".

At this, Dumbledore paused and sighed, staring at Harry with tears in his eyes. "Your father met him at the door and judging from the spells he had used, it was quite a duel. Sadly, James was not able to overcome Voldemort, and as you know, he did not live". Dumbledore paused again, giving Harry a moment to wipe his eyes, and then he continued. "Your mother, I believe, searched for an escape route, but all avenues of escape had been sealed by Voldemort. What I mean by that is all the windows and doors had been sealed by powerful magic and all means of magical transportation had been disabled. In essence, you and your mother were trapped inside the house and there was nothing she could have done about it since the only means of escape was going past Voldemort and escaping through the front door.

"I'll not lie to you and say I know exactly what happened when Voldemort found you and your mother in your nursery, but what I can say with one hundred percent confidence is that your mother chose not to engage Voldemort in a duel. Based on what happened, I believe her only concern was your safety and she tried to reason with him, but Voldemort has never been one to see reason. He used an illegal spell aptly named the Killing Curse. Until that night, no one had ever survived that curse and I truly believe no one else ever will. When your mother was out of the way, Voldemort turned his wand to you and…"

"He tried to kill me?" Harry asked, his eyes wide.

"Yes, Harry, he did", Dumbledore answered, "and as I mentioned before, you would not have been the first child he killed. However, you did not die, and that is because he encountered something he has never understood".

"What?" Harry asked unable to help it.

"Love", answered Dumbledore simply and Harry must not have hidden his disappointment as quickly as he thought he did. "Yes, Harry, it was love that saved you that night. I know it's not as dazzling as you had thought, but I will say this much about love. There is no greater force in the universe than love and it was surely proven on that night. Your mother, although I am sure she did not know it at the time, sacrificed herself for you, and in doing so, invoked the most powerful kind of protection you could have been afforded. You see, Harry, love as deeply as that of your mother's sacrifice leaves a mark…no, not a scar or a visible sign. It is ingrained in your very soul. To put it simply, when Voldemort tried to cast the Killing Curse on you, the protection you were given created a shield of sorts. You could not be touched, not by something as evil as Voldemort, and so the Killing Curse rebounded off of you and defeated Lord Voldemort".

"He…he's dead?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"Sadly, he is not", answered Dumbledore solemnly. "Voldemort's greatest fear is death and he must have found a way to circumvent it, but even I, with as much knowledge as I have accumulated over the years, am at a loss as to how exactly he achieved immortality. Alas, he is neither dead nor truly alive. I believe he is a shell of his former self, his powers temporarily vanquished. That, Harry, is why you are famous. You are the only person to ever survive the Killing Curse and you were unscathed except for that scar on your forehead".

"How exactly did I get my scar, sir?" Harry asked briefly running his hand over his scar. He'd always thought it must have been a freak accident for him to have such an odd-shaped scar.

Dumbledore stared at Harry for a long moment before answering, "When the Killing Curse rebounded off of you and hit Voldemort, some of Voldemort's powers were transferred to you".

"W-what do you mean?" Harry asked nervously.

"You can talk to snakes", Dumbledore said. "So could Voldemort".

"What else did he transfer?" Harry asked, feeling a bit queasy. "I'm not going to be a dark wizard like him, am I?"

"It is our choices that makes us who we are, Harry", Dumbledore said after a long moment where he gazed intensely into Harry's eyes. "Just because you inherited some of Voldemort's powers does not mean you will go dark. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir", Harry answered and silence filled the room before the ten-year-old boy suddenly thought of something. "Sir, how did you know I can talk to snakes?"

"I hope you do not think I have left you alone for all of these years", Dumbledore said. "I've had someone watch over you ever since I brought you here. I myself have watched you from afar".

"You have?" asked Harry, not sure how he felt about that.

"Indeed I have", Dumbledore confirmed. "I watched as you discovered your magic and finally gain control of it. Unlike Voldemort, you did not terrorize anyone although you very well could have and many would say you would have been justified to do so".

"I don't want to hurt anyone".

"Alas, another difference between you and Voldemort", concluded Dumbledore with a smile. "But back to the original question, how are you safe here. Before I left you with your relatives, I invoked powerful magical of my own on you and this house. Again, I shall say Voldemort has never understood love and therefore underestimates its power. I used this knowledge to your advantage even though I knew you were in for ten difficult years. You see, Harry, while you can still call home the place your mother's blood resides, you cannot be touched nor harmed by Voldemort or his followers. I, more than anyone, knew that Voldemort was not defeated and would be back. When? I still do not know. I did know what his followers would have done to you had they found you. I know this will sound cold, but your safety meant more to me than your happiness. You can hate me if you want to, but at least you are able".

After several moments passed, Harry realized the Headmaster was finally finished. He stared at him as he processed all the information he had been given. It was a lot to take in all at once, but he was not overwhelmed.

"I understand, sir", Harry finally said although he did not agree with the Headmaster's methods. Given all that he heard and assuming it was the truth, Harry decided, as much as he disagreed, that he would have done the same thing.

"I am glad you do", Dumbledore said with a nod. "Now, I am sure you have many questions concerning Hogwarts".

"Yes sir", Harry said quickly, his excitement building. "This is isn't really about Hogwarts, but…what is magic exactly?"

The old man stared at Harry for a long moment, his eyes flashing in amusement. "Magic is indefinable…it is innate…it is ingrained in our very souls".

Harry wrinkled his nose, not liking that vague answer one bit. He asked, "But how do I have magic and not my cousin?"

"You inherited it from your mother and father".

"But my mum is Petunia's sister", Harry argued.

"Yes, she is, but you either have it or you don't", Dumbledore said and Harry was about to argue further. "You either have it or you don't, Harry. As I said before, it is ingrained in our very souls". Harry still did not like that answer, but decided to move on, knowing the answer to his question was just lying there somewhere waiting for him.

"Alright, I inherited magic from my mum and dad. Does that mean everyone else does too?"

"For the most part, yes", Dumbledore replied after a moment. "Roughly seventy-five percent of the students in your year will have at least one magical parent, if not two. Some can trace their family tree back more than a thousand years. Your father's family, for instance, can be traced past Ignotius Peverell, who died in the late 1200s. Now your mother's family, on the other hand, has no direct ties to the magical world. As I've said before, you either have magic or you don't. Twenty-five percent of the students in your year will be students who did not know they were a witch or wizard before they received their letter".

"Will…um…they be behind?" Harry asked, deciding not to mention the fact that he felt like one of them even though his mum and dad were magical.

"You would think so, but the answer is no. Every student entering Hogwarts starts on equal footing though I shall admit that the students who have never known magic will have to adjust to the culture of the magical world" Dumbledore finished, staring at Harry squarely in the eyes. "There is an adjustment period, but if you are anything like your mother you will catch on quickly and become one of the top students in your year. She would not have been named Head Girl had she not been".

"How is everyone on equal footing though?" Harry asked. "I mean, if I was raised by my mum and dad I'm sure I'd know loads of things".

"You undoubtedly would, but you would have no way of practicing the spells you learned", explained Dumbledore, causing Harry to frown. "Once a witch or wizard receives their Hogwarts acceptance letter, they are then able to obtain a wand. Until then, strictly speaking, they aren't allowed to perform magic with a wand".

"A wand?" Harry asked, a bit confused. "I thought…you know…" Harry decided against finishing his sentence with words. Instead, he took a moment to find his center then lifted his hand and the coffee table separating the two lifted in the air until it was at eye level before he gently set it back down.

The old man's eyes were gleaming in amusement as he said, "You will find that there aren't many in our world that can perform magic without a wand. We have grown too reliant on them simply because it is far easier to use magic with them rather than without. Those that are able have always started at an early age. As they become older and more attuned to their wands, they slowly lose the ability, mostly through lack of practice. I myself am now limited to cheap parlor tricks". Dumbledore paused and flicked his finger, causing all the candles in the room to instantly light. He made a sweeping motion and they all went out at once. "As a word of advice, I recommend practicing your magic without a wand for a few minutes each night. On weekends, I would recommend trying some of the spells you learned in Charms class without a wand. Those and earth-based spells are primarily the only ones you will be able to perform without a wand. You may try, of course, but I would not even bother with Defense Against the Dark Arts or Transfiguration".

Harry was a bit confused upon hearing the names of a few of his classes. Defense Against the Dark Arts seemed quite literal, but he didn't have much of a clue on the other two.

"Charms? Transfiguration?"

"Ah, you'll have to excuse me, Harry", Dumbledore said apologetically. "It has been roughly fifty years since I made a house call to a new student. I'd forgotten you don't know anything about our world. On a side note, I would appreciate it if you don't mention it was I who introduced you to the magical world. Some would think the act shows favoritism when, in truth, I am mainly here to perform my duties as executor to your parent's will". Harry nodded in understanding. "Now then, on to your question…Charms and Transfiguration. A charm, to put it simply, is a magical spell that causes an object to act in an uncharacteristic way when it otherwise wouldn't. For example, what you just did with the coffee table is known as a Levitation Charm. The spell your parents used to hide from Voldemort is the Fidelius Charm. It caused their house to disappear from everyone who did not know the secret".

Harry nodded in understanding again and the Headmaster continued, "Transfiguration is widely considered the most complex branch of magic, but I shall say I am a bit biased as it was my former subject. By definition, Transfiguration is the act of transforming one thing into something else entirely. The object can be transformed from something animate to something inanimate, and vice versa, but I shall say no more on the subject for fear of being scolded by our esteemed Transfiguration Professor". Harry cracked a smile at the obvious attempt at humor. "Now then, do you have any other questions?"

"I…I don't even know where to get a wand, sir".

"Ah, no, I guess you wouldn't", Dumbledore said as he glanced at his watch. "Tomorrow morning there will be an orientation for the students new to magic. May I deduce you will not have any means of travelling to London?" Harry nodded, looking a bit upset. "Not to worry, Harry, I shall have one of your professors pick you up at eight if it is agreeable to you".

"It is, sir", Harry answered confidently. A part of him was worried that the Dursleys wouldn't allow him to go, but today he'd made the decision that the Dursleys would no longer have any say in his life other than providing him food and shelter when he wasn't at Hogwarts.

"Very well", Dumbledore said and slowly stood up from the recliner. "Then I shall take my leave". They shook hands and Harry led him to the front door. Dumbledore opened it and suddenly stopped in the middle of the threshold. "I shall see you September the first, Harry, and I must say it was quite delightful to meet you. Be ready at eight tomorrow morning and don't forget the key to your vault or the supply list".

"Supply list?" Harry asked, face paling.

"I think, in your haste to reply, you overlooked the second sheet of parchment in your acceptance letter", Dumbledore said, looking mightily amused. "I believe it is self-explanatory. If not, any questions you may have will surely be answered tomorrow".

"Yes sir", Harry said. The headmaster nodded, and with a twinkle in his eye, suddenly disappeared before Harry's eyes. The ten year old gaped at the spot where the old man had been. "Can't wait to do that", he muttered, grinning widely. Harry shook his head in amusement and shut the door before promptly sprinting up the stairs. He spent the rest of the day devouring the supply list. Most items were indeed self-explanatory, but there was one underlying question. Where in London could he possibly buy all this?


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I do not own Harry Potter!_

The alarm clock began wailing and Harry Potter immediately opened his eyes, feeling a wave of enthusiasm even though it was five o'clock in the morning. He yawned widely, regretting the fact that he had stayed up until a little past midnight, but if he hadn't written down everything he had learned the day before he was certain he would lose the information over time. If anyone ever found out he kept a journal, Harry knew he'd probably be laughed at, but he didn't care seeing as he only did it to remember inconsequential details he thought he might later forget. Yesterday had been jam-packed full of details, both important and not, and he had made sure to take meticulous notes.

Crawling out of bed, Harry silently navigated his way to the bathroom and quickly took a shower. Once finished, the green-eyed boy opened his bedroom window and crawled on the narrow eave with his journal and a pen in hand. The glow of the porch and streetlights created enough light for him to read until the sun finally peaked over the horizon. Harry read what he had written only hours before although he knew there wasn't a chance he would ever forget what the Headmaster had told him about his parents. He used the journal for names of the people and the few spells Dumbledore had mentioned. At seven, the alarm on his watch went off and Harry quickly wrote:

_July 25, 1991_

_Today a Hogwarts Professor will pick me up and take me to get my school supplies. It is amazing how much has changed since yesterday. I didn't even know the magical world existed and now it's all I can think of. I hope that I'll get some most of my questions answered today, but I'm sure I'll only have more. It's so exciting knowing in just a few short hours I'll reenter the magical world and be able to really start learning magic._

Harry used the rest of his time to get dressed for the day and to eat a quick breakfast. If the Dursleys were awake, they were certainly giving him a wide berth. Briefly, Harry wondered what his aunt and uncle had said to Dudley, if anything, but those thoughts vanished upon the sound of someone knocking on the front door. Harry sprinted as fast as he could to the front entry, trying in vain to flatten his messy hair as he did so.

"Hello", he said, staring up at a tall, stately-looking woman with a tight bun.

"Mr. Potter", she said with a nod and briefly glanced at his hair. "My name is Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts. Headmaster Dumbledore asked me to come by and take you on the muggleborn tour".

"Muggleborn?" Harry asked, looking confused.

"Didn't he mention…" The older woman paused and shook her head. "No, it's just like Dumbledore not to tell you".

"Tell me what?" the ten-year-old boy asked, even more confused.

"Come along, Mr. Potter", McGonagall said, sounding a bit perturbed. "I shall explain it to you on the way". Harry nodded, shut and locked the door behind him. He followed the older woman across the lawn and onto the street, waiting patiently for her to begin. "A muggleborn is the name for a witch or wizard born to two nonmagical, or muggle, parents. Your mother was a muggleborn".

"Headmaster Dumbledore told me that much", Harry said uncertainly. "How come he didn't just call her a muggleborn?"

"I won't even bother trying to understand what goes on inside the headmaster's head", she replied, "but if I had to guess I would think he withheld that information from you because he did not want you to know that there are some in our world who look down on muggleborns and the like".

"But why?" Harry asked as they continued walking. To where, he did not know. "Dumbledore told me that you either have magic or you don't".

"And I am in one hundred percent agreement with that", she agreed immediately, "but there are some of the old families who believe pure blood is everything".

"But my dad married my mum, didn't he?" Harry argued, knowing he was a bit out of his element. He had very little information to go on and had to make a few educated guesses. "His family was old".

"Your grandparents did not care one way or the other, as long as your father was happy", McGonagall said after a moment. "As I've said, there are some in our world who still look down upon muggleborns, but that number is slowly dwindling".

"Is that…" Harry was suddenly struck by an idea, but paused to rephrase his question. "The headmaster didn't mention why Voldemort started a war in the first place. Is that why?"

"Yes, it was", she admitted after a long moment. For some reason, she'd shuttered just a bit, but he didn't know why. It certainly wasn't chilly outside. "If he had it his way, every single muggleborn and muggle in the world would have been murdered". Harry almost opened his mouth, but stopped himself, knowing it was pointless to say what seemed so obvious to him. They continued walking, now in silence, until they reached the edge of the park.

"This will do", McGonagall said.

"Good", Harry said with a smile. "For a minute there I thought we were going to walk to London".

McGonagall looked vaguely amused before taking out her wand and glancing at him. "Since you live in a muggle neighborhood the ideal means of magical travel until you turn seventeen will be the Knight Bus. Watch closely, Potter". She finished by raising her wand high in the sky. Harry held his breath, expecting something truly brilliant to happen, but after a few seconds he gave up, growing quite disappointed. As a result, he literally jumped away in fright upon hearing a loud bang followed by a violently purple triple decker bus appearing out of nowhere.

Spinning around with wide eyes, Harry stared at the park, expecting to find at least a few people staring at the bus in confusion, but no one seemed to notice the bus or the loud bang it had made upon appearing out of nowhere.

"The bus has a Notice-Me-Not Charm placed on it which prevents muggles from noticing it", McGonagall quickly explained.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for the witch or wizard…" the conductor began.

"Yes, Stan, we know", McGonagall interrupted and pushed the man, who couldn't have been older than eighteen, aside and entered the bus with Harry hot on her heels. "Ernie, I've got a new Hogwarts student with me. We need to go to the Leaky Cauldron".

"Right", the old driver said, hardly glancing at Harry. "Jus' make sure he knows that the Knight Bus normally ain't free. It'll cost twenty sickles for you to go to London from here".

"Sickles?" Harry asked as they took a seat near the front of the bus. McGonagall was about to answer when the bus suddenly accelerated causing the ten year old boy to grin widely upon feeling that whooshing sensation in his stomach caused from sudden acceleration. Harry watched the scenery pass by, but could hardly recognize anything since they were going insanely fast. As they traveled, McGonagall explained the currency of the magical world. Harry nodded along, suddenly remembering that Dumbledore had said he would receive a five hundred galleon stipend per year. When he learned the exchange rate, Harry was speechless, unable to come up with any scenario where he spent that much money in one year.

"The Leaky Cauldron", the driver said. There were several groups of people that got off the bus with them, but they all looked to be older than Harry.

"Stay on my left", McGonagall whispered. Harry nodded and did as told while glancing at the nearest street sign. He saw that they were on Charing Cross Road, but couldn't make out the nearest side street. Instead, he focused on the shops in view, memorizing as many names as he could. Then, his focus turned to the shabby building they were heading toward. The Leaky Cauldron was the kind of building often overlooked. In fact, as Harry thought it, he noticed that the eyes of those who passed it immediately focused on the next shop in the distance.

"Notice-Me-Not Charm", Harry muttered and Professor McGonagall briefly glanced at him, nodding her head in agreement. McGonagall held the back door open for him, but it turned out she was holding it open for another group of people as well.

"Miss Granger, I'm glad you could make it today", she said to a small girl with brown curly hair.

"I don't think Hermione would have missed this for the world", said a woman who entered after the girl. Harry presumed it was her mother and was certain the man with brown curly hair was her father.

The man feigned a yawn and said, "She was up at half past five".

"Four", the girl corrected and blushed slightly under her parent's gaze. "What? I can't help but think of all the books…" She trailed off, finally glancing at Harry.

"Ah, yes, Harry Potter, this is Hermione Granger and her parents, Miranda and Jake", McGonagall said. "The two of you are the only students who accepted their letters in time for this morning's orientation. You should feel lucky. The latter groups will certainly not be so few". The two students in question nodded their heads, and McGonagall turned and faced the brick wall in the small courtyard.

"Watch closely", she said as she took out her wand. McGonagall counted three up and two across and then tapped a certain brick three consecutive times. The brick wiggled and jiggled then disappeared, causing the bricks on all sides to turn this way and that, slowly condensing on one another until an archway was formed. Harry stared at the newly revealed buildings in amazement.

"Oh dear lord", he heard Mr. Granger say. Harry silently agreed. There was all sorts of magic around him and he just knew it would take decades to learn it all. Some of it, however, was a bit disturbing. One vendor was selling dragon liver for seventeen sickles an ounce. He did not know which was worse, the liver of a dragon or the fact that dragons actually existed. After a brief moment of thought, Harry emphatically sided with the latter.

'_Real life dragons'_, thought Harry, shivering in both fear and amazement at the thought.

"Stay close, Mr. Potter", McGonagall said and he realized he'd been lagging behind.

"Sorry Professor", Harry said and quickly caught back up to the group.

"Now, as I was saying, our first stop is Gringotts Bank", continued McGonagall. "The Grangers, of course, need to exchange their money for galleons. While they do that, Mr. Potter and I will head to his vault". At that, she paused briefly and glanced at him sharply. "You did bring your key?"

"Yes ma'am", Harry said quickly and fumbled around in his pocket for it. "It's right here".

She nodded, looking a bit relieved and Hermione Granger quickly asked, "How come you have a vault already?"

"I…"

"Mr. Potter is not a muggleborn student", McGonagall answered for him.

"But Professor", the girl said quickly, "you said this tour was for muggleborn students only".

"I did, and at the time that was the truth", explained McGonagall. "Mr. Potter, however, did not know about our world until his letter arrived yesterday".

"How could you not know about magic?" the girl asked accusingly. McGonagall looked to answer for him, but Harry beat her to the punch.

"Extenuating circumstances", he said, gritting his teeth in anger. The annoying girl looked to argue even further, but her mother put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a sharp look that seemed to carry a silent message because the girl immediately looked abashed. Not another word was spoken after that and they continued heading towards the bank. McGonagall pointed it out once it was in view. It was a snowy white building that towered over all the other shops. Harry briefly wondered if it could be seen from different parts of London. He decided it had to be, but deduced it probably had a Notice-Me-Not charm on it, so not to be seen by just anyone.

"W-what are those?" asked Mrs. Granger, looking absolutely petrified at the things guarding the doors. Harry was a bit frightened of them too, but figured they couldn't be that dangerous since they were out in public and no one else seemed to be the least bit panicked.

"Those are goblins", replied McGonagall and looked to explain further.

"G-goblins?" asked Mrs. Granger, her voice perilously high. "I-I saw a pet shop…" Without further ado, she turned tail and sped off in the opposite direction, leaving her husband and daughter behind. They did not seem too surprised by it at all, more amused if anything.

"She'll be fine", Mr. Granger said with a small smile that he seemed to be restraining. "So…this is Gringotts".

"Yes", McGonagall said before tearing her eyes away from the retreating figure of Mrs. Granger. "Shall we enter?" All three nodded and they followed behind the Professor. As they entered the second set of double doors, Harry read the engraved words and pondered what sort of magical traps were set up to stop thieves. "The exchange line is right over there". McGonagall pointed to a long line filled with mostly students, who for all intents and purposes, looked like witches and wizards. "Mr. Potter and I should be back before you are helped, but if not we can meet you in the pet shop Mrs. Granger entered".

The Grangers quickly agreed and Harry followed Professor McGonagall to the other side of the bank where there were at least a dozen tellers who were busy helping witches and wizards alike. They were helped within minutes and led down to the vault by a goblin named Bogrod. The ride down was something he would always remember. He had never been on a roller coaster and he imagined nonmagical ones were not as gravity defying as the one at Gringotts. To say the least, Harry was mightily disappointed when the cart began slowing down. It ultimately came to a stop in front of vault six hundred and eighty-seven.

The sight of all that gold did cause Harry's heart to skip a beat and he couldn't help but notice that there was much more than five hundred galleons inside his vault. When he unconsciously mentioned it aloud, the goblin, Bogrod, explained that he would not come into his full inheritance until he was of age. What money was in here was the five hundred galleon yearly stipend he'd received ever since his parents died. Quickly doing the math in his head, Harry figured that there was at least five thousand galleons, which was the equivalent of twenty-five thousand pounds. To say the least, Harry was quite shocked when he learned he had enough money to buy a moderately expensive car if he wanted to.

Harry took as much money as McGonagall would let him. A part of him did want to tell her that it was his money and he could take as much as he pleased, but he did not want to start out on the wrong foot with his professor and now that he knew where Diagon Alley and Gringotts were located, Harry knew he could always come back for more later on.

Briefly, he wondered how much money he would receive once he became of age, but quickly vanished that stray thought from his mind as quickly as it had come. He'd grown up with absolutely no money to his name and while having some would certainly help in his endeavors, Harry did not think of himself as rich. He'd gladly trade all the money in the world for the lives of his parents. With those somber thoughts in mind, the trip back was not nearly as enjoyable. It certainly didn't help matters that the Gringotts cart did not go downhill both ways.

"Something on your mind, Potter?" asked McGonagall as they reentered the bank lobby and discovered that the Grangers were now third in line.

"I was just thinking about my parents", said Harry softly and stared at the middle-aged professor a long moment before deciding to ask, "Did you know them, professor?"

"I taught them in Transfiguration all seven years they were in Hogwarts and was also their Head of House for their last five years", she answered after a moment. "Yes, I knew them very well".

"What subjects were they good at?" Harry asked, a dozen questions coming to mind.

"Lily and James were near the top students in their year in just about every subject", she answered with a small reminiscent smile. "Your father was particularly gifted in Transfiguration. Your mother did not quite have the same grasp of the subject as your father, but she was near the top of their year. I seem to remember she was the top student in their year in Charms and Potions".

A question about Potions was added to Harry's list, but he knew he would found that out later.

"You mentioned that you were their Head of House", said Harry, recalling the house structures of all the secondary schools he had applied to. "How will I be sorted?"

"You will learn that on September the first and not a moment sooner", she answered rather briskly, "but I can promise you that the sorting will not involve trolls, dragons, or even using magic".

"How many houses are there?" Harry asked, a bit peeved she had not answered his question. He did not consider himself a know-it-all, but Harry did like to know as much as he could about any given subject.

"There are four", answered Professor McGonagall. "They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. I am the Head of Gryffindor".

"What do the names mean?" Harry asked upon hearing the unique names.

"They are the surnames of the founders of Hogwarts", she answered. "If you wish to know more I recommend buying Hogwarts, a History when we are at the bookstore. The Grangers appear to be almost finished". Harry and Professor McGonagall made their way over to the exchange line and the Grangers were finished not even a minute later.

"Those exchange rates are outlandish", Mr. Granger said quietly as they exited the bank. "And why couldn't they have more than one line?"

"I've often wondered that myself, Mr. Granger", replied McGonagall, saying nothing more on the subject. "Since we need to retrieve your wife, the pet shop is as good as place as any to start". Without further ado, they entered the Magical Menagerie. Mrs. Granger was waiting for them with perhaps the world's smallest owl perched on her knuckles.

"Hermione, look what I found! Isn't he the cutest?!" Mrs. Granger exclaimed immediately, her fear of goblins seemingly vanished. The brown-haired girl raced towards her mother and both women gushed over the pint-sized owl. "The owner, Mrs. McLaggen, said he is one of the fastest delivery owls she has".

"He is cute", Hermione gushed.

"And since normal communication won't work inside Hogwarts we'll be able to send letters back and forth even faster", continued Mrs. Granger. "What do you think, Jake?"

Mr. Granger shrugged and said, "It's up to Hermione".

All eyes except Harry's turned towards the girl in question. He began looking for a pet for himself when she asked, "Does he have a name?"

"No, not officially", replied Mrs. Granger. "But he's quite taken with the name Aeolus. You know, the god of the winds". Harry was sure Hermione Granger said something, but by the time she did he was out of earshot, not that he really cared. He walked the store, trying to find himself a pet, but nothing really jumped out at him. Really, the only thing that did was a large ginger cat with a squashed face, bowlegs and an intelligent look in its eyes.

"Fine, I'll pet you", Harry said after the cat in question almost tripped him for the fourth time. The ten-year-old boy reached down and rubbed the ginger cat's ears, causing it to purr loudly.

"Ohhh, did you find a pet?" asked Hermione Granger from behind him.

"No, just an ugly nuisance", Harry replied. The ginger cat hissed and swatted his forearm, but for whatever reason its claws were not out.

Hermione Granger scoffed and quickly took the cat away from Harry. "You didn't have to be so mean", she said, glaring at him. "I think he's gorgeous. Yes I do". Harry rolled his eyes when the girl started cooing at the cat, which seemed to be mightily enjoying the extra attention if its loud purring was any indication. "Mum, look what I found".

The Grangers and Professor McGonagall immediately came from an aisle over. Mr. Granger immediately sniggered upon seeing the cat's scrunched up face.

"I think Mrs. McLaggen said he's been here for ages, Hermione", said Mrs. Granger. "We've already bought Aeolus and the letter was quite clear about each student having only one pet".

"But mum", she whined. "I feel ever so sorry for the poor cat. Can't I keep him?"

"No Hermione", interjected Mr. Granger. "You can only have one pet".

"But mum wanted Aeolus", she whined and Harry almost groaned, finding that he disliked the girl more and more. "What if…" She sniffed and her eyes suddenly widened. "What if I keep the cat with me at Hogwarts and you and mum keep Aeolus at home? Would that be against the rules, professor?"

"As long as the owl stays at your home for the majority of the time I see no problem with it whatsoever", answered Professor McGonagall after thinking on it for a long moment.

Hermione Granger's eyes lit up in joy, and she said, "Mum, dad, please! I'll even pay for him with my own money. Please!"

Mr. Granger shrugged while Mrs. Granger grimaced and Harry was sure she was going to tell the girl no, but she said, "Your own money". The woman did not get another word in. Hermione Granger squealed, clutching the poor cat tightly, and raced towards the front of the store before her mother could change her mind. Harry did not know whom he felt sorrier for: Hermione Granger, for purchasing the ugliest cat in existence, or the cat for having to put up with the most annoying girl in existence. Since the girl wanted the cat, he figured the cat got the short end of the stick.

"Did you find anything you like, Mr. Potter?"

"No ma'am", answered Harry, shaking his head. "I kind of want an owl, but there's…"

"The selection at Eeylops Owl Emporium is quite a bit better", finished Professor McGonagall, seeming to read Harry's mind. "It's on the other side of the alley. We can go there a bit later".

"Okay", Harry said with a nod and they headed to the front of the store where Hermione Granger had just finished purchasing the ugly cat whose name turned out to be Crookshanks. "Where to next?"

"The bookstore!" exclaimed Hermione quite loudly, her eyes alit in passion. Covertly, Harry rolled his eyes even though the bookstore was probably the place he was most looking forward to going.

"It is just across the way", replied Professor McGonagall. "Shall we?" Everyone nodded and they headed towards a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked all the way to the twenty-foot ceiling. Harry was not ashamed to admit his eyes slightly bulged at the sight of all that knowledge packed into one place, but he certainly didn't salivate like Hermione Granger seemed to be doing.

For the first hour, Harry followed the group as they found each of their books on the supply list. Along the way, Professor McGonagall recommended a few books, Hogwarts, a History included, and both students bought each recommended book without question. When Hermione Granger began reading the titles of each and every book in the store and briefly skimming through quite a few, Harry decided to break off from the group. He went back to where they found the books for each of the subjects he would be taking and went ahead and bought some of the more advanced books, including The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2) and also Grade 3. As luck, or rather lack thereof, would have it, Professor McGonagall found him reading a rather interesting book on basic pranks.

She cleared her throat, causing Harry to jump slightly, and said, "I hope you aren't planning on anything, Mr. Potter".

"No ma'am, I mean, not really. Well, really just my relatives is all", he stammered, knowing he'd been caught and there was no way he could lie about it. For a moment, Harry swore he saw the old woman slightly smirked, but it happened so fast he couldn't be entirely sure. Besides, Harry knew she couldn't have any idea how awful the Dursleys were.

"Be that as it may, if I found out you carried that book out of this store, you'll be spending every single night of your first week at Hogwarts in detention", she lectured and Harry did have the wits about him to look scolded even though he really wanted to argue the fact that she couldn't give him detention since the semester clearly hadn't started yet. He guessed one good thing about living with the Dursleys is that he learned when to pick his fights and now certainly wasn't one of those times.

McGonagall did not leave him alone after that, but he did benefit by getting a bit more information about his parents including the fact that his father had been an exceptional Quidditch Chaser, which prompted him to buy Quidditch Through the Ages. She also recommended a few other background books including A Muggleborns Guide to the Magical World, The Potions Brewing Guide for the Magical Beginner, Elementary Wand Care, Great Witches and Wizards of the Twentieth Century, Great Magical Events of the Twentieth Century, Modern Magical History, and The History of the Ministry of Magic. There was one subject he had been hoping to find a book on, but if there was a book on the origins of magic, he must have missed it.

They finally left the bookstore just after one in the afternoon, everyone was famished and needed an hour to decompress. They ate at a nice café midway through the alley and no matter how much Harry and Professor McGonagall protested Mr. and Mrs. Granger insisted on paying for lunch. Harry quietly ate as the Grangers peppered McGonagall with questions about what life was like at Hogwarts and the magical world in general. Most of the questions were either ones he had or were ones that he should have thought to ask and Harry was quite content to just listen while watching witches and wizards of all ages go about their shopping.

Once finished, they headed over to Madam Malkins and it was there that Harry first became aware of just how famous he was. The store was crawling with teenagers and adults alike, and as they weaved through the crowd someone suddenly shouted, "Blimey! It's Harry Potter!"

Pandemonium immediately ensued. People were screaming and pushing to get a good look at a wide-eyed Harry. A camera flashed, momentarily blinding Harry, but he could hear practically the entire store swarming towards him. Luckily, McGonagall stepped in between Harry and the potential mob, and defused the situation with practiced eased. Her wand was out in an instant and she raised it in the air. There was a loud bang and the store quieted at once.

"Silence!" she shouted with great authority even though it was no longer necessary. "Yes, Mr. Potter is in the store today and he will be attending Hogwarts in the fall. If I see anyone of you accost him, you will have to explain to your house why you lost twenty house points before the semester even began". Silence rang and Harry, quite wide-eyed, silently wondered why even the adults took McGonagall's threat seriously. It was then that Harry decided that she was definitely a witch not to be trifled with.

Harry did not know if it was because of his fame or simply that Madam Malkin wanted them out of there, but she assigned more clerks to himself and Hermione and they were able to leave in a matter of minutes. Unfortunately, word seemed to have traveled that Harry Potter was in Diagon Alley. It seemed everywhere they went whispers followed. He could handle that, but the outright pointing was a different story. At one point, he felt like an animal in the zoo being gawked at. Needless to say, he didn't much fancy the idea of being famous anymore.

"What's that all about?" Mr. Granger asked when they ducked inside the Apothecary. It was apparent what he was asking because all three Grangers were staring at Harry in utter confusion.

"Mr. Potter is quite famous in our world", explained Professor McGonagall when it became clear Harry wasn't going to say anything. "Do you mind if I…" Harry shook his head even before she finished the question and headed towards the back of the store, not wishing to hear how his parents died for a second time. By their pitying looks, Harry knew McGonagall had told the Grangers everything, but thankfully they did not bring up the matter, for which Harry was immensely relieved.

Soon enough, there were only two stops left, the owl emporium and Ollivander's. Since the wand shop had a small line of witches and wizards waiting for their first wand, the Grangers went ahead and waited in line while Harry and McGonagall went to the owl emporium. The professor silently followed Harry as he navigated the endless aisles of owls. He'd almost given up finding an owl when he spotted a beautiful snowy owl that stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Hello", said Harry as he walked towards the owl. Without thinking, he stuck out his hand and rubbed her cheek.

"I wouldn't…oh, it seems she likes you", said one of the clerks. "Normally she doesn't like anyone. She's very temperamental, but snowy owls are commonly thought of as the most loyal of all delivery owls".

"Is she fast?" Harry asked.

"To be honest, she's not nearly as fast as some of the other breeds, but she's certainly not the slowest either", he continued. "But sometimes fast isn't always the best. I can tell you that sometimes the fast ones can't find the recipient. You won't have to worry about that with this one. Snowy owls are one of the most intelligent breeds and this one in particular is quite stubborn. She'd rather die than fail". At that, the beautiful snowy owl puffed out her chest as if she was immensely proud of that fact.

"I'll take her", Harry said almost immediately. In reply, she nipped his finger affectionately and climbed on his wrist then up his forearm. After finding a cage, a collapsible perch and enough owl treats to last a year they headed for the cashier. There was no haggling over the price even though Harry thought the shopkeeper wanted a bit much for the owl. As they left the shop, Harry finally spotted Quality Quidditch Supplies and he couldn't help but wonder how he had missed it. He'd never thought of broom travel before, but he couldn't help but think of how brilliant it would be to fly unhindered and to feel the wind rushing past him. Involuntarily, Harry shivered at the thought, knowing how utterly brilliant it must be.

"Oh, no you don't, Potter", said McGonagall, steering him away from the store he'd unconsciously been walking towards. "If you are anything like your father you are undoubtedly thinking about how to smuggle a broomstick into Hogwarts. You will get caught just the same as he did".

"I wasn't…"

"As your supply list clearly says, all students aren't allowed a broomstick until after our flying instructor deems you broom-worthy".

"How long does that take?" Harry asked as they walked back towards Ollivanders.

"It took your father all of one class", she replied, which gave Harry quite a bit of confidence, "but he'd been riding a broom all his life, I'm sure. Your mother, on the other hand, didn't pass until, I believe, sometime before the end of her first year, which is the norm for most muggleborn students".

"Hmm", Harry said, an idea coming to him. "Professor, what if I were to buy a broomstick today and you keep it for me until after I pass?" He said the last part quickly because she had tried to interrupt him and he wanted to finish before she could shoot him down. He could tell she almost said no, but she paused and really thought about it for a bit.

"I will agree to that, but if I find you snooping around my office for it then I will revoke your right to a broomstick until after…third year. Do you agree to those terms?"

"Yes ma'am", Harry said confidently as he silently wondered why she thought he was such a trouble-maker. From what he had briefly gathered, he thought it likely had something to do with his father, but he couldn't be sure.

"We'll go after Ollivander's", she said before they entered the wand shop. The Grangers had not yet been helped, but it wasn't ten minutes before Hermione stepped up and began the process of being fitted for a wand. Some five minutes later, a ten and three-quarter inch vine wood wand with dragon heartstring chose her and she excitedly waved it around, emitting a ton of sparks as she did so.

"Congratulations, Miss Granger", said McGonagall when the Grangers made their way towards them.

"Thank you, professor", replied Hermione Granger with a large grin. "Oh, mum look at Harry's snowy owl. He's gorgeous".

"She", corrected Harry instantly.

The girl shook her head quickly and said, "No, the males are pure white. I've seen them at the London Zoo".

"The shopkeeper said that she is a female", argued Harry, doing his best to control his temper, "and I would think he knows a bit more about owls than you".

The girl seemed ready and quite willing to respond, but her mother squeezed her shoulder softly and said, "Hermione, it doesn't really matter. It's been a long day. I think we're all worn out and a bit testy. Professor, I think we'll go ahead and leave unless you can think of something we're missing".

"No, Miss Granger has everything on her list and if she needs anything else you now know where to go", replied McGonagall. "Mr. Potter, if you don't mind I will show the Grangers out".

Harry shrugged and said, "I don't mind".

"It was nice to meet you, Harry, and I'm sure you'll have a very good year at Hogwarts", said Mr. Granger, holding out his hand. Harry hesitantly shook it.

"And if you like, you are certainly more than welcome to write us", added Mrs. Granger after a long moment.

"Mum!" exclaimed a suddenly very embarrassed Hermione Granger.

"Hermione! It's called common courtesy", replied Mrs. Granger in a snappish tone of voice.

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger", said Harry, truly grateful at the offer even though he doubted that he would ever write them. To Hermione Granger, he said, "Guess I'll see you on September the first".

"Yes", she said and that looked like it was all she was going to say until her father elbowed her softly on the shoulder. "It was nice to meet you".

"Yeah, you too", Harry said politely even though it was an obvious lie. He sincerely doubted he would ever spend any time with Hermione Granger at all. The Grangers and McGonagall left soon thereafter and Harry waited in line until it was his turn.

"Harry Potter", whispered the old man, but judging by the excited whispers behind him, everyone heard the old man too. "I'd been wondering when you would find your way into my store. It seems like only yesterday your parents were in here buying their first wands. Your father favored an eleven-inch mahogany with phoenix feather. Quite powerful and excellent for transfiguration. Your mother, on the other hand, favored a ten and a quarter inch willow with unicorn hair. Swishy yet feisty, a nice wand for charm work. And that brings me to you".

Ollivander paused, for the first time staring at the scar on his forehead. He softly said, "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew with phoenix feather. Powerful, so very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I had known what that wand was going into the world to do…" Wide-eyed and speechless, all Harry could do was just nod. "Which is your wand arm?"

Caught off guard, Harry stammered, "I…um…well…uh…I'm left-handed, sir". Ollivander paused and looked at Harry for a brief moment before he went to work, taking all sorts of measurements. At one point, the old man left the measuring tape to its own devices and began explaining about wands, but Harry had already heard what he had to say several times. He listened politely, however, hoping to hear something he didn't know. He did not. Soon enough, the measuring tape stopped and Ollivander reappeared from the back of the shop with a stack of boxes.

"Try this one, Mr. Potter. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave".

Tentatively, Harry touched the wand, but felt nothing upon grasping it. Feeling quite foolish, Harry gave it a wave. Nothing happened and Ollivander immediately snatched the wand out of Harry's hands, handing him another. That one was quite temperamental and it took its anger out on a vase. Again, Ollivander handed him another. And so the repetition began until it seemed that Harry had tried all the wands in the store and damaged just about every piece of glass including the front window. Thankfully, there were several adults that were able to repair the damage with a little flick of their wand and a quick, "Reparo".

"Tricky customer, eh?" asked Ollivander in utter delight. This frustrated Harry even more. "Not to worry, Potter, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere…hmm…what about the brother…equal yet the complete opposite…yes, why not…" With that said, Ollivander raced to the back of the store and returned reverently holding a dusty box with several spider webs hanging off the sides. "An unusual combination…holly and phoenix feather….eleven inches".

Tentatively, Ollivander handed him the wand and Harry knew at once that this was the wand he'd been waiting for. Something stirred deep within him, causing Harry to feel weightlessly joyous. Unconsciously, he gave the wand a wave. Red and gold fire rushed out of the wand then transformed into a fiery winged creature. It whipped around and disappeared into thin air. Harry couldn't help but grin in a mixture of astonishment, relief and exhilaration that left him shivering in utter delight.

"Oh, bravo!" said Ollivander excitedly after a long moment where'd looked startled. "Yes, indeed!" The old man looked ready to say more, but glanced back at the line of first year students and their curious parents and apparently thought better of it. Instead, the old man leaned forward and whispered in Harry's ear. "Remember these words, Potter. Use caution with such power. It can be addicting and changes even the best of wizards. Remember".

"Yes sir", whispered Harry, his voice a bit unsteady. He understood the warning, having felt a combination of the wand's power mixed with his own. Ollivander nodded and packed the wand into the dusty box then wrapped it in brown paper. He handed it to Harry, who asked, "Can I also get a cleaning kit?"

"Yes, of course", replied the wandmaker. He casually waved his wand and a cleaning kit appeared in a matter of seconds. "Anything else?"

"No sir", replied Harry, having seen and heard what the previous customers had bought.

"Your total is seven galleons", said Ollivander and Harry looked surprised, having heard the totals range from ninety to one hundred and twenty galleons. "Your father once saved my life". With that, the old man gave Harry a slight bow of thanks and moved on to the next customer once Harry paid him seven galleons.

"Have you been waiting long, professor?" Harry asked as soon as he spotted McGonagall next to the front door. "I didn't even know you were already back".

"I was here", she replied.

"You could have come up front".

"I could have, but I've learned over the years that acquiring a wand is a very intimate experience that should only be shared with those close to you", she replied and Harry slowly nodded in understanding. "Now then, we have one last stop left". Harry grinned widely in reply. McGonagall shook her head although if Harry looked closely he swore he could see some amusement in her eyes.

Quality Quidditch Supplies was full of witches and wizards of all ages. Children were running back and forth and those that were not were begging their parents to buy them the new Nimbus Two Thousand, which was currently the fastest broom on the market. Needless to say, the ten year old boy made a beeline for the Nimbus section and abruptly stopped in front of the Nimbus Two Thousand. Harry, who knew absolutely nothing about broomsticks, thought it looked immaculate…easily the best-looking broomstick in the store. It was sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, a long tail of neat, straight twigs and the words Nimbus Two Thousand were written in gold lettering near the top.

Professor McGonagall sighed and said, "I should have known".

"I overheard someone say it's the fastest broomstick on the market", gushed Harry, still staring at it in wonder. His heart skipped several beats upon reading that the broom was capable of reaching a hundred miles an hour in ten seconds. He almost shivered when he thought how brilliant it would be too fly that fast.

"It's one hundred galleons", said McGonagall, likely trying to talk him out of buying the most expensive broomstick on the market, but Harry would not be dissuaded. All of his life he'd wondered what it would be like to fly. The closest he ever got was by jumping off the swing sets in the park and using his magic to carry his momentum further than humanly possible. Harry supposed that was nothing compared to the acceleration the Nimbus Two Thousand boasted of. Besides, he really wasn't even buying the broomstick since he was paying roughly the same price as his wand would have cost had Ollivander charged him for it. Based on what he had learned today, Harry was sure his dad would have approved and that was more than enough for Harry.

"What else should I buy while we're here?" Harry asked, ignoring McGonagall's comment about the cost.

"You will definitely need a broom servicing kit and you should probably go ahead and buy a self-straightening brush", she answered after sighing in defeat.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"In the future you might look into buying a compass and altimeter, but it will be many years before you take a trip by broomstick", answered McGonagall, saying the last quite sternly.

One hundred and twenty galleons later, Harry was the proud owner of a Nimbus Two Thousand. He'd briefly thought of trying to sneak it into his new trunk, but McGonagall seemed to expect he'd try something and therefore kept a sharp eye on the broomstick. In the end, he reluctantly gave the professor the broomstick without her having to ask for it.

"Oh, I'd almost forgot", said McGonagall, suddenly stopping and gazing at Harry for a moment. "I've been trying to find the right time to broach the subject. I noticed you don't wear glasses and definitely remember your father was blind without them. We can make a stop to the optometrist if needed".

"No, my vision is perfectly fine", replied Harry.

"You're certain?" asked McGonagall. Harry nodded, but for whatever reason she did not take his word for it. Instead, she had him read various signs near and far until she was satisfied. "I'm sorry, I just want to make sure you are fully prepared. If you do notice your vision deteriorating, I highly recommend going to the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. If caught soon enough, our school nurse, Madam Pomphrey, can provide you a potion to correct your vision".

"I'll definitely keep that in mind", replied Harry, glad to have the information, but a bit peeved that she didn't just take Harry's word for it. They then made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron and out the front door to muggle London.

"You know, it's almost night time", said Harry conversationally. "We could ride my Nimbus Two Thousand back to Little Whinging".

"Would you really let someone other than yourself drive your new broomstick first?" asked McGonagall, seemingly surprised. Harry really didn't want anyone to ever drive his new broomstick, but he really wanted to fly more than anything. In reply, Harry nodded eagerly. "Be that as it may, there are laws that prevent us from doing magic in front of muggles. Since it will be a clear night the chances of us being seen are highly probable".

"The Knight Bus then?" Harry asked, a bit disappointed, but he'd expected her to say something along those lines. They were picked up by the Knight Bus in a matter of seconds and Harry was dropped off within two stops. He was a bit surprised when Professor McGonagall got off with him.

"Professor, you don't have to walk me home".

"Nonsense, Potter", she replied sternly and that ended any argument he had. They walked in amicable silence from the park to No. 4. Harry couldn't think of anything to talk about and he blamed that on his growing fatigue. He suddenly yawned in agreement.

"It has been a long day", said McGonagall. "I'm sure you won't ever forget parts of it".

"I hope not", answered Harry honestly. "Thank you for taking me, professor".

"It was no trouble at all".

"Are you sure?" he asked with a tired smile. "I've been told my questions are endless".

"You discovered a new world today and it is only natural that you question it", answered McGonagall.

"I didn't even ask most of the questions I have".

"There will be plenty of time for that", she said, "and I am sure you will find quite a few of them in the books you bought today". Harry had hoped that was the case. "If you do have some questions before the start of term you are more than welcome to write me".

"I might just do that".

"And I do want you to know that no matter what house you are sorted into my office will always be open to you". Harry did not answer even though he was very grateful for the offer. There was still so much he didn't know about his parents and he was certain McGonagall would regret her offer by Christmas. "Ah, here we are. There is just one more thing you need to know, Mr. Potter". As she said this, McGonagall reached into her pocket and pulled out one long and narrow piece of thick paper. "This is your ticket to the Hogwarts Express". She then lectured him on precisely how to find the barrier that leads to Platform 9 ¾ and actually tested him when she was through.

"You passed your first of many tests, Mr. Potter", she said, nodding her head. "If you do have any trouble finding Platform 9 ¾ don't do anything foolish. There will be hundreds of witches and wizards at King's Cross and I'm certain you will be able to spot at least one of them. If, for some reason, you are unable to find the platform and the train leaves without you, do not panic. Send a letter to me with your owl and someone will come for you. Again, I repeat do not do anything foolish. The last thing you want is for the Ministry to send a team of obliviators to King's Cross in order to erase the memories of any muggles you might have slipped up in front of".

"They can erase memories?" asked Harry, eyes wide in wonder.

"That, along with many other things you shall undoubtedly learn at Hogwarts", she said. "But until then, goodnight, Mr. Potter".

"See you at Hogwarts, professor", said Harry. She nodded and retreated into the night. Harry lifted his trunk, once again thankful the professor had placed a Feather-Light Charm on it. If he hadn't gotten it, Harry was certain his arms would have fallen off by now. Hesitantly, Harry entered the Dursleys house, ready for the inevitable.

"Boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon upon hearing the door slam. He was in the entryway in seconds and immediately glared at the sight of Harry. "Where've you been all day?"

"Buying school supplies", answered Harry.

"Buying…" Vernon paused, finally noticing the caged snowy white owl sitting on top of his trunk. "I told you that you won't be going, boy, and that is final".

"How exactly are you going to stop me, uncle?" Harry asked with a small chuckle, sounding much more confident than he actually felt.

"Do not try me, boy", whispered Vernon angrily.

"Don't try me, uncle", replied Harry and for more affect he forced as much light into the bulb above Vernon as possible and it exploded within a second. The fat man shrieked and stared at Harry with a bit of fear in his eyes.

"G-go to your room", he stuttered much as he always did when Harry used magic in front of him. Perhaps he ought to feel guilty about doing it, but doing magic and a threat of telling the police of their treatment of him had been the only reason why he'd gotten his own room when he was six. Usually about once a week, Vernon forgot his own fear of Harry doing magic and the ten-year-old boy subtly reminded him by doing innocent things like intentionally busting light bulbs. He'd never hurt the Dursleys with his magic and wouldn't as long as they never laid a finger on him.

"Gladly", replied Harry and he quickly rushed to his bedroom then shut the door behind him. The trunk was gently placed on his bed then he immediately let his new owl out of her cage. She quickly flew to the window and he stared dumbly at her until she lightly tapped the glass with her beak.

"Oh, you want to go outside", he said unenthusiastically. "You'll come back?" The owl rubbed its cheek against Harry's hand and he reluctantly opened the window. Before it flew away, he said, "I'll have a letter for you in the morning". The owl seemed to perk up in reply and immediately flew off into the night.

Yawning widely, Harry glanced at the clock and discovered it was only seven. He shrugged, knowing it had been a long day and crawled into bed. Besides, he wanted to get an early start in the morning.

_A/N: I know some of you won't like how I've written Hermione and you might think she's OOC. Since we never saw how she acts with her parents, we don't really have anything to go on, but I think she would be far more comfortable around them and able to act her age. Once we get to Hogwarts, she'll act largely like she did in the books, but don't expect Harry to befriend her any time soon. She will, however, feature prominently in this story, but that doesn't mean this story will be a HHR. I've already decided on ships and expect Harry to date multiple characters (not at the same time!) throughout his time at Hogwarts._

_Also, I am always very ecstatic to receive a review, whether it is good or bad, and really like to respond to the more concrete reviews so please sign in before reviewing!_


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